Superbowl
by Darkyami7
Summary: Jonouchi's hypotized, Kaiba's bored, and Yami just doesn't get it. YYxJxK


Superbowl

Rating: Uh...T, let's go with T

Warnings: Umm...alcohol usage? I don't know.

Summary: Jonouchi's hypotized, Kaiba's bored, and Yami just doesn't get it. YYxJxK

Author's Notes: You know, I just couldn't help myself. My whole family has been talking about the Super Bowl all day, and its really starting to piss me off. I had to turn down an actual social gathering for this damn sport that I don't give a fucking care about! So, yeah, I wrote this in a hurry and in retaliation, so don't mind if it sucks.

* * *

"Touchdown!" Jonouchi yelled, jumping up off of the couch, his knees bumping the table and sending beer and popcorn flying. Lightly muscled arms flew up in the air, fingertips pointing to the ceiling. "Aww, Seto, did you see that!" 

It was February 5th, the Fortieth Super Bowl, and Jonouchi couldn't have been happier. The Buffalo Wings were already consumed, a half a box of beer drunken, and it wasn't even the Second Quarter yet.

Said Seto didn't even look up from his book, "Yes, puppy…it was neat." His voice was as dull as his blue eyes at this point.

Jonouchi didn't notice, though, and began to eat spilled popcorn as he sat back down. He groaned when commercials started across the screen. "Damn commercials! Why are there so many!"

"So the house-wives have something to do," Yami said, his voice holding just a tinge of ice as he walked into the room, plucked Kaiba's book out of his hands, threw it across the room and sat comfortably the CEO's lap.

"I was reading that, you know," Kaiba said dryly, but nevertheless his arms slunk around Yami's waist and pulled the smaller towards him. Yami kissed his forehead playfully before turning to the other.

"Jou, I really don't understand this football thing, you know. And you don't even support-" Yami started, his crimson eyes patient, but Jonouchi flapped a hand at him rather impatiently and the duelist fell silent, his arms crossed across his toned chest.

"Yami, its no use," Kaiba said, tracing patterns lazily on Yami's back, "The mutt's hypnotized. Football does that to people."

"Hmm," Yami said in a mock-thoughtful voice, then slid off of Kaiba's lap and shimmied over to his other boyfriend. Two slender fingers traveled up Jou's tanned arm in a dance, while the other slid up his t-shirt.

"Yami, stop."

Said darkness pouted, surprised at Jou's reprimand, but pf course didn't stop. Once hand slinked up Jonouchi's shirt and started to toy with his nipple, while the other began to toy with his pierced ear, "Jonouchi…"

"Yami, not now." Jonouchi wouldn't even look at him, and Yami was annoyed now. How could this stupid, superficial sport even began to attract Jonouchi's attention?

The duelist huffed slightly, then climbed into the blond's lap and kissed his nose before pouting again when Jou watched the game from over his shoulder, his neck craned, his mouth slightly open. Yami moved slyly down to Jou's lower lip and began to suck on it softly, but Jonouchi made no noise or move to urge Yami further. He bit down a little and squeezed Jou's sides…still nothing.

"Yami!" Was his only reply, and it wasn't a happy one, either.

Kaiba meanwhile, was starting to look uncomfortable on the couch, and his moved his toes and feet erratically, "Yami, he's not paying attention. Just give up and…" He faded off, still squirming a little in his seat.

Yami looked over at Kaiba, then separated himself from Jou quickly. A smile toyed at his lips, "Oh…" He said playfully, "And why would I want to stop?" Those slender fingers began to play with his blond bangs slowly.

Kaiba's eyes narrowed and his literally got up, walked over to Yami, and threw him over his shoulder. Yami chuckled as Kaiba began to walk rather quickly to a random bedroom, unbuckling his KaibaCorp belt as he went, while Jonouchi still sat there, eating popcorn and drinking beer as men in padded tights ran around an arena.

* * *

Author's Notes: A-huh, pointless and stereotypical, I know, but I've been stereotyped all day about various football things, and right now I just want to huddle up in my room with chicken wings, trying to defeat my writer's block. 

It is now somewhere around half-time, and I'm just as resentful as ever!

Please Review.


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